#leg wound

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 22

"What's the bad news?" / Poison / Bedridden / Cauterization

Prompts List | Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1500

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: naval battle, arrow wounds, leg injury, cauterization, fire powers, blood, screaming, medical whump, caretaker POV

A/N: A bit of pre-canon whump for Trials of the Six that dives into Raiann, Aquilar, and Elya's friendship before the Plot.

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Raiann was lucky enough to be below decks when the other ship was spotted. She was hidden away in her tiny cabin, doing her best to repair a shortsword with the limited materials she had at her disposal. Cursing the blade's smith, her hands moved methodically, back and forth, back and forth, buffing away the dents and scratches in the edge with a whetstone. Not for the first time, she wished she could melt the blade and start from scratch, creating a better sword than the talentless fop who had clearly scammed his way into becoming a smithy.

Inspecting the blade, Raiann finally determined it would be suitable for its purpose and put away the whetstone. Stretching, she absently wiped her hands onto her skirts before realizing her mistake as her fingers left gray streaks on the colorful material. Hissing through her teeth in frustration, she sheathed the sword and rose, stalking out of her quarters and through the passageway in search of the blade’s owner.

Raiann was, unfortunately, unlucky enough to be on deck when the crew discovered that the other ship was flying pirate colors. By then, of course, it was too late.

An arrow thunked into the deck inches from Raiann’s foot. She jumped and whirled about, searching for the source as sailors around her shouted and ran about the deck. On the quarterdeck, Aquilar spun the ship’s wheel, expression focused. The water churned around the ship, propelling it forward and advancing on the enemy at an incredible speed.

Raiann spied the sword’s owner, the captain, standing near Aquilar, shouting orders in Tectuma and gesturing wildly to the enemy ship. Raiann closed the distance between them, climbing onto the quarterdeck and thrusting the sword at her. “It’s ready.”

“Ah!” She slid the blade out of the sheath and gave it a cursory glance before buckling the sheath onto her belt. She nodded before turning away and resuming her shouts. Raiann’s Tectuma was spotty, but she’d picked up enough to gleam that she was urging the crew to prepare to board.

She wasn’t sure who had called out the warning for the next volley of arrows.

What she did know was that the shout came too late.

Thunk.

Aquilar stumbled back with a cry as an arrow slammed into his thigh. The water went still, the ship drifting, his concentration disrupted. He hit the ground with a thud, hands grasping helplessly at the arrow. Raiann was at his side in an instant, dragging him away from the helm at the captain’s gesture.

The captain took hold of the wheel, and the water began to churn again, keeping their ship on course as cannonballs hit the water nearby, the waves this time under her command. “Get him to Elya!” she ordered, intent on the enemy ship.

“Of course!” Raiann pulled Aquilar to his feet, wincing as he cried out again, heavily favoring the injured leg. She supported his weight, helping him down from the quarterdeck and belowdecks, not wanting to push too far and injure him more but also not daring to linger too long.

When they finally stumbled into the infirmary, Elya immediately took over, grasping his arm and taking on his weight as she lowered him to the floor. All the color had drained from his face, and his skin was slick from sweat. She crouched beside him and tore away the fabric surrounding the arrow wound, inspecting it with a critical eye. 

Aquilar hissed through his teeth at her touch. “What’s the bad news?” he asked, a wane smile breaking the pained expression on his face. 

Elya ignored him as she continued to study his leg. “Raiann,” she finally said, “When I pull the arrow out, I’m going to need you to cauterize the wound immediately.”

Raiann blinked. “You want me to what?!”

Elya rose and crossed the room, rummaging through the cabinets full of various glass bottles until she found a short, round one with a dark liquid inside and a taller square bottle holding clear liquid. “Cauterize the wound, yes. Burn the flesh around it to seal the blood vessels. Keep him from bleeding out. You are a Fire Mage, are you not?”

“I am…” Raiann hesitantly said, eyes flicking back to Aquilar, who slumped against the bulkhead, his breathing labored. “But I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that….”

“That’s okay,” Elya said reassuringly, returning to Aquilar’s side and pressing the round bottle into his hand. “Drink. It’ll help the pain.”

He did so without protest, and she carefully set the empty container aside, looking back to Raiann. “You see that small knife there, on the table?”

Raiann located the indicated tool and grabbed it. The knife was thin, the blade about as long as her hand. She noticed faint black streaks close to the handle, where cleaning was more difficult. Scorch marks, she guessed, or perhaps soot from a flame.

Elya smiled reassuringly. “Good. Now I need you to heat the blade as you would a piece of metal in the forge.”

Raiann hesitated but obeyed, reaching out to her Mage energy and allowing its familiar warmth to roll through her. She let the heat rage through her mind, breathing deeply to maintain control of its natural hunger. The flames tamed, Raiann stretched out her free hand and directed the energy down the limb, collecting in her palm like how water would drip down an angled surface.

She snapped her fingers.

Flames burst to life, brought into being by the friction of her fingers and the intense desire of the fire to be free of her. But even as they swelled out from the source, Raiann reined them in, confining them, guiding them. Forcing them to grow hotter and hotter until the flames turned blue.

Satisfied, Raiann passed the knife through the flames, holding it in the heat as the fire begged to be released, as it fought against her mental restraints. She’d never had to hold it so tightly, for fear of what would happen to the wooden ship should her hold break, and it sensed that fear, tried to attack that weak point.

The blade glowed red. Her work was done.

Raiann drew the flames back into herself, smothering the Mage energy as it roiled and fought, furious that it would not consume. The flames were strong, that much was true. 

But Raiann was stronger.

The moment the fire was gone, Raiann shivered. The infirmary was suddenly freezing in comparison to the heat that had flowed through her moments before. She shook her head. She had a job to do.

Elya grasped the shaft of the arrow, close to where the arrowhead pierced Aquilar’s flesh. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands curled into fists. The healer made eye contact with Raiann, who nodded and knelt on Aquilar’s other side.

When Elya removed the arrow, she didn’t yank it. No, she moved slowly and methodically, careful not to hurt her charge any more than necessary. A low groan escaped Aquilar’s lips as the arrow slid out, the foreign object free from his leg. As blood began to pour from the wound, Elya took the square bottle and dripped some of its contents onto the wound. If the liquid pained Aquilar, he didn’t show it.

“Press the knife into the wound,” Elya directed.

Raiann gritted her teeth and acted as ordered, wanting to look away but all too aware that she could not. The blood hissed as it came into contact with the hot metal, followed by a sizzling sound that set her hair on end.

Aquilar gasped softly, eyes widening as he registered the action.

And he screamed.

His hands went up, trying to push her away, but Elya held him down, an unreadable expression on her face. Raiann wanted to cover her ears, to block out the sound betraying the incredible agony he was experiencing, but she could not. 

She wanted to close her eyes, to not see the evidence in front of her, but she could not.

She wanted to pull away her hands, the hands that were hurting him, burning him, making the wound worse, but she could not.

Elya was the one to pull away the blade. The healer would know, after all, when the wound was properly cauterized. Raiann scrambled away, almost tossing the knife aside before her sense of logic caught up with her and she carefully set it back on the table.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked back at Aquilar.

She couldn't tell if he was still conscious. His eyes were shut, his body motionless as Elya cleaned the blood away and began to dress the wound. Sensing the Fire Mage’s eyes on her, Elya glanced up and nodded. “He’ll live,” she said in reassurance as she continued to wrap the bandages around his leg, “It’ll be a while before he can walk properly, but that won’t affect his role. You did well, Raiann.”

Raiann’s face heated, almost as if she had accidentally touched her Mage energy. “I… thank you, doctor.”

Elya shook her head. “Please, just call me Elya.”

“Oh… thank you, Elya.” She shifted uneasily, glancing toward the door. “I should… I should check in with the captain.” With those words, she turned on her heel and fled the infirmary.

He would be fine.

The wound will heal.

She did well.

And she didn’t set the ship on fire.

Raiann smiled to herself. Perhaps she was good for more than just a forge.

[luthienne]

Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; "Miracle of the Black Leg"

[Text ID: —what knowledge haunts each body, / what history, what phantom ache?]

[purenonsens]

Long live the new flesh (GIF ver)

[deedjre]

had the brilliant idea of drawing them as birds instead of guys like what i always intended to do so here's smitten

i need to kill him with hammers

[crumbpigeon]

✸ If you could only see the beast you've made of me, I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free ✸

[mittensit]

idly mentally writing a NariLamb angst fic, just to be silly, all the while I longue in bed waiting for death sleep

-> right after Lamb betrays Narinder <-

Brain: "He had once towered over him, but now here he lay. Curled up in a tiny ball in his lonely hut, trembling. Heat that only comes from severe infection rolled off of his body. His fur matted, smelling of sickness, blood, and decay, the air turned foul. Because Lamb had been petty, because they hadn't cared, he was dying alone*."

Me:

*that is something I think about a lot when Big Sad

[stagefoureddiediaz]

If this scene shows me Medic Eddie tending Bucks wounds whilst standing between his legs - I will promptly expire

[bisexualmcqueen]

alright this one's a little different

its a thumbnail comic of a scene from a silly fic i have YET to write (but i have half of it plotted out/partially written). was a fun choreo exercise. additional context at bottom.

had to omit some plot details for simplicity's sake, but the basic premise is as follows:

"sort of crack taken seriously in that a freak weather event occurs in radiator springs. the green and white cars are just random tourists who lightning is helping evacuate. he's borrowed one of mater's towing cables… but alas he is not a tow truck. also i throw rocks at him! {he doesn't break his powertrain [axel] just a link arm + a few other suspension bits. it's to nerf him for later to let another character do a good deed in his place} {also he has the tow cable because he was closest to rescue the tourists but everyone got separated}"

the tourists also were NOT supposed to be out exploring carburetor country, there were weather warnings posted, but they lied and went anyways and lightning had to find and rescue them </3 (and then they get detoured and This happens</3)

[whumpdaydreamerx]

The Blacklist 1x09 | Donald Ressler Shot

[kna1lgrau]

Law is forever sad that Sanji won't let him vivisect him out of curiosity for his superhuman abilities... my guy cannot as much as look in general direction of a syringe; he swears on his life the next time Law even makes a step towards him with a scalpel in his hand he'll be kicked overboard the Sunny and Sanji WILL let him drown (he won't).

[byjove]

as much as I love osteoarchaeology, I’m not sure I could do it. I’d just be standing there looking at a badly healed break on a femur from the Paleolithic era thinking “ow. owwwww. yeowch. ouchie.”

[seawing-vibes]

The lil illustrations of the dragons from the How To Draw book are so nice … I honestly love the offical art its so fun

Edits by WillowCharlotte123 on the WoF Wiki!!!

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

In retrospect it’s kinda funny how Mel spent the whole of season 1 unintentionally driving Jayce mad with power by convincing the Council to go along with all of his dumb ideas, like making magic from science, deposing the president, and selling half the city to a drug kingpin. Like this man seriously thought that Viktor not immediately agreeing to his “we have to end Hextech because it’s bad” speech was a sign of possession rather than him being far less persuasive than he thinks he is.

[lvllns]

hm. one could, in theory, argue that rook's personality being relatively even across all options (slightly sarcastic, not as mean as some people wanted) is because of solas.

lean into the element of horror. the lack of control. lean into you have the elvhen god of trickery in your head and you want to be mean to someone but you can't. you think the words you want to say yet something else entirely comes out. you want to be mean, to tear this person to shreds, to call them an idiot and instead words form on your tongue, and you don't know where they came from.

[sailing-ever-west]

Thinking about the concept of Sanji rolling up to Wano well-dressed and doing his best "I'm fine" act and Zoro immediately knowing he's injured and where just by the way that he moves and stands.

[stiffyck]

I keep thinking about my scar design and how big the difference between him and tcd scar is.

Tcd scar is a scrawny kid who's clothes are way too big for him and who barely has anything to eat and who's covered in old bandages

Vs current scar who has well fitting clothes and has enough food and isn't malnourished and who's not just surviving but living his life and doing what he wanted